Kiss of Life
by flashpenguin
Summary: What if John Reese and Joss Carter's paths had crossed long before that fateful subway ride? What if they were star-crossed lovers from the get go but didn't know it? And what if it all started with a fateful kiss of life? My take on why Reese was so possessive of Joss and the reason why she laid her life down for him. May be multi-chaptered.
1. Kiss of Life

_Ever since the fateful scene in the morgue I've wondered two things: 1) Why wasn't Reese horrified at the scar on Joss's stomach, and 2) Why did Joss look as though the kiss had awoken a memory from long ago? So, I thought to myself, "Hmmm, considering they were both in Iraq at about the same time, and then both were in NY in 2008/2009, who is to say their paths HAVEN'T crossed before? What if they DID meet up but didn't know it? What if their lines crossed but it wasn't the right time or place?" Well, I took it and ran with it! _

_As always, I can't tell you how much I appreciate you support and honesty. Let me know what you think and if I should continue._

* * *

**Kiss of Life**

_February 2004 _

_United States Army Base, Fallujah, Iraq  
******_

Joss Carter had known pain in her lifetime - 40 hours of intense labour, an emergency C-section, and one gun shot wound - but she had never felt anything comparable to the white heat that enveloped her and set her skin on fire. Nothing compared to feeling as though she was being ripped in half. Literally.

_What happened,_ she wondered to herself as she faded in and out.

She had a vague memory the 'click' sound. Some people described it as a party popper going off or a champagne cork popping. But she didn't think it sounded like either one. In fact, she didn't really hear it so much as she felt it.

She could see the big brown eyes of the young Marine Sgt round in fear and surprise. His mouth opened to say something - what, she would never know - and a moment later he was gone. Disintegrated right before her very eyes - just like that - the 300 pound gorilla was dust.

Barely conscious, her fingers curled gently to touch the sandy, coarse earth. Surprised at the texture, it took a moment for her to realize she was lying on the hard ground. She tried to push herself up, but blackness enveloped her, followed by a white light. She inched toward it as strong arms reached out to hold her. And she welcomed the safety and comfort they promised…

The sergeant on duty had seen the event transpire and was the first to rush over to the fallen female warrant officer. Kneeling beside her, he tried to call to her. No response. But he had seen her fingers move. Encouraged, he called to her again. Still no response.

He tried to wipe away the blood and tissue from her face so he could put his ear close to her mouth. But there was no need to do so as he watched her eyes roll upward and then freeze. He grabbed her wrist. No pulse.

"I don't have a pulse," he shouted to no one in particular and began compressions. He couldn't wait for the medics. He counted to five and then gave a breath. Nothing. He repeated it twice more. "Stay with me," he begged.

He didn't know her, but he was sure someone was waiting for her at home - wherever that might be. Maybe she had a husband or family who desperately love her and were waiting for her return. And for a brief moment he was jealous. A second later his jealousy was replaced by anger - anger at the unfairness that this woman's life could be cut so short by stupidity and revenge. He propelled everything into keeping her alive.

"Come on," he begged. "Fight." He covered her mouth once more and breathed his life into hers. Though he was never a praying man, he threw a quick thought out there for help. In the great unknown, someone had to hear his plea. And for a brief micro-second his faith was restored when she pushed against him.

He pulled back as she coughed to expel his breath and take in fresh oxygen. She was back. Looking down, the sergeant saw the wound on her abdomen. With gentle hands he tried to apply pressure to staunch the bleeding.

"Who…?" Joss gasped as pain overwhelmed her and threatened to short circuit her brain.

"Don't talk," the sergeant cautioned. She needed to conserve her strength until help arrived.

He barely felt the pushing shaving as the medics finally arrived on the scene. "You're going to need to move," a faceless voice demanded and pushed his hands away to assess Joss's wound.

Joss blindly reached out for her saviour. "Don't," she pleaded on a desperate breath.

With every last bit of effort she had, she opened her eyes and found herself staring into twin pools of blue. Looking into the man's eyes, she felt no pain - what she did feel, though, she couldn't put her finger on. The stranger with the sad eyes had saved her - like a guardian angel that fell from heaven at just the right time. How did one pay back that debt?

A sharp pain jolted her back to the present when the team loaded her onto a gurney. Her sob came out more as a gasp as the IV was inserted into her arm, and hot tears leaked from her eyes to sting her cheeks. A gentle hand brushed them away and she tried to turn her head to find her angel. If she was going to die, she wanted to know his name. Blindly, her hand reached for his.

Looking down, the sergeant saw Joss's fingers extend and reach. Taking her cold hand in his, he squeezed. "You're going to be alright," he assured her. It wasn't just empty words; he meant what he said. The world couldn't afford to lose her. Not yet.

"Name," she whispered before the oxygen mask was placed over her face. Her big brown doe shaped eyes bore into his. She wanted his name. He hesitated before reconsidering. He was never going to see her again, so what could it hurt, he argued to himself.

"John," he replied.

Forcing a weak smile, Joss closed her eyes. She wondered if she would ever see him again. Then their hands were rudely forced apart as the medical team rushed her away to triage.

John watched as the woman he saved was taken into the medical tent. The flaps closed ominously.

As the adrenaline left his body, John tried to take a deep breath to control the shaking that threatened to overwhelm his body.

"Are you alright?" someone asked. "Were you hurt, too?"

"I'm fine," he replied and looked down at his hands. But he didn't see the blood. He saw her small hand in his and felt the electricity of when they touched. Now he was the one who had to remember to breathe.

"You did well, Sergeant," an authoritative voice complimented. But John didn't hear the words. His mind was on the doe-eyed warrant officer he had lost his heart to.

Forever.  
******

_To be continued..._


	2. Kiss of Fire

**Kiss of Fire**

* * *

_**Manhattan Island, New York  
November 5, 2008  
********_

Joss Carter swirled the amber coloured drink around in her glass and sighed. What should have been one of the happiest days of her life had been extinguished before it had a chance to begin. _How had her life come to this,_ she wondered and sipped. The drink burned a path down her throat, but she didn't care. She just wanted to get drunk.

"Get you another drink?" a man's nasal toned voice asked from behind Joss.

Joss didn't bother to turn around. "No," her tone was flat and final.

"You look like you're running a bit on the empty side. Let me get you a refill."

"The answer is no." Joss tightened her hand around the glass and willed herself not to chuck it at the stranger's head. She wanted to be left alone to wallow.

"Hey, baby," the man protested crossly, "I was just -"

Joss turned around. "You were just….what?" She made sure her purse was open wide enough for the creep to see her service weapon. She watched his expression turn from overly confident to ashen. "I thought so. You just run along, son, before you get yourself hurt."

She dismissed him with the wave of her hand. Turning back toward the bar she brought the glass to her lips. As she sipped, she felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle. Turning to her right, she looked at the dark-haired, well dressed man at the end of the bar.

"You thinking about being brave, too?" she challenged with a bravado enhanced by the liquor.

"Nope," the stranger replied simply and twirled the liquid around in his glass.

"Good." She paused. "Why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why aren't you offering to get me a drink?"

He brought the glass to his lips. "Because you already have one."

"Smart ass," she muttered and drained her glass. She slammed it on the counter. "Joe. Get me another." A minute later her hands held another amber coloured glass. She shifted her eye back to the stranger.

"So, what's your story?" she challenged.

"Who says I have a story?" He shrugged indifferently and tried to concentrate on the drink and not the beautifully attractive woman sitting three stools down on his left. He tried not to let her perfume affect him, but the sweet jasmine reminded him of the vacations he used to take down south to visit his grandparents.

"Good looking guy sitting alone at a bar by himself - although you did crash a wedding reception. So I'm guessing that you had a run in with an ex-wife or lover," Joss remarked confidently. "No matter what, you got a story."

"Don't we all," the man replied with a cynical smile and finished off the drink. His eye flicked sideways to look at the dark blue taffeta dress with more ruffles than the law allowed. "You're all dressed up with no place to go."

"Already been. A wedding." The man raised his eyebrow. "Not mine," Joss corrected quickly. "A friend."

"Always a bridesmaid, never a bride," he quipped.

"Been there, done that, too," Joss' voice was hollow from a mixture of pain and anger. Now he was intrigued. His eyes glanced quickly to her left hand. Bare of a ring.

"Widowed?" He didn't mean to pry, but he had to know.

"Divorced."

"Sorry," he consoled. "How long?"

Joss looked at her watch. "In one minute it will be exactly twelve hours."

"So you attended a wedding to lift your spirits? Sounds like you may need to get a new therapist," he chuckled dryly.

Joss sneered and rolled her eyes. "I was the Matron of Honour. I couldn't exactly back out."

"Ouch."

"Yeah." Joss emptied her glass. "Joe!" Another glass appeared. She cradled it as though it held the answers she needed, but she was afraid to drink it. "What is it about weddings that make you betray your honesty and integrity? I mean, there you are standing beside your best friends, and the preacher asks if anyone has just cause for them not to marry to speak up. You have that chance to save them from making a mistake. And what do you do? You plaster on a smile and shut the hell up."

The silence stretched for a long, painful minute as though neither party dared to speak.

"So, what about you?" Joss eyed the handsome stranger.

"It's complicated."

"Sure it is," Joss scoffed. "You're married or divorced."

The stranger twirled the amber liquid in his glass so fast Joss wondered how it didn't slosh over the side. He looked down at the counter.

"Like I said, it's complicated."

"Isn't it always?" Joss peered closely at the stranger. "Have we met before?"

"I don't think so," he deflected.

"I just have this feeling we've met before. Like…" she tried to find the right word "…déjà vu."

The stranger trailed his eyes from Joss' face to her feet and back. "I think I would remember you." Interest smoldered in his blue eyes.

"Strange." Joss emptied her glass and slammed it down. "Joe!"

The stranger counted the empty glasses. "I think you've had enough."

Joss turned to give him a defiant look. "Heh. Are you my keeper now?"

"I was thinking that you may not want to get behind the wheel. That's all."

"For your information, pal-"

"John."

"Of course it is," Joss snorted. John shrugged indifferently. "For your information, _John_," she continued, "I have a room here - compliments of the bride and groom…like the open bar you invited yourself to - so I can get as drunk as I want." Reaching in her clutch, she pulled out the key card. "See?"

"Okay." He had been put in his place with subtle authority that impressed him immensely. Though she rubbed him the wrong way, he found himself strangely attracted to her. Something about her eyes pulled him in. Where had he seen her eyes before?

"Kids?"

John shook his head. "Who, me? No. No kids." In his line of work? He wouldn't wish a kid on himself to save his pathetic life, he groused. "You?"

"A son. He's ten."

John smiled and brought this glass to his mouth. If the boy was anything like his mother…

"Dance with me." Joss stood up and took a halting step forward.

John blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Dance. With me." Joss extended her hand. She teetered on her heels, but somehow she maintained her balance.

"I don't dance."

"Since I can't buy _you_ a drink and we've run out of conversation…the next step is to dance."

"You may regret it," he cautioned her not to get her hopes up.

"After the day I've had…heh, consider it a gift."

"For what?"

"Not hitting on me."

John finished his drink. "Okay. You win." Taking Joss' hand in his, he immediately felt the jolt of electicity run up his arm. He almost had to remember to breathe.

The sweet baritone sound of Luther Vandross crooning "Here & Now" blared over the speakers. Taking the floor, John stood awkwardly as he tried to remember the section in his Army Ranger manual that described dancing.

"You are going to have to loosen up," Joss chastised and moved John's hands to her waist. With the bravado only malt liquor could give, she wrapped her arms around John's neck. Her steps were halting due to the alcohol, but she was careful not to stumble or step on toes as she moved to the slow beat. John tried to match her steps. Joss smiled.

"That's better," she complimented.

"Sure." He tried to listen to the music and not think about the beautiful woman in his arms or the way her perfume was weaving around him to whisper promises in his ear. He tried not to think about how she was turning him on. _Think of Jessica!_

But Jessica was happily married to Peter. And this beautiful, intoxicated woman was in his arms, her breasts pressed against his chest, her eyes looked up at him with promises she intended to keep. Distracted, John lost his concentration and stepped on Joss' foot.

"OW!" Joss exclaimed, suddenly sober. She hopped on one foot. Holding on to her partner's arm, she let him lead her to the bench on the far side of the wall. Sitting down, she cursed under her breath. "I should have believed you."

John slipped the stiletto off to examine Joss' foot. Softly and with expert hands he touched her toes. "Does that hurt?" He looked at Joss.

Now it was her turn to remember how to breathe. "No. Not much."

"How about this?" he asked and ran a finger along her arch.

Joss shook her head. "No."

John moved closer. "I guess nothing's broken." Like a tractor beam he couldn't break free from, John was drawn in by Joss' big brown eyes. "I think you're going to live."

"Yeah," she breathed. _His eyes are so blue,_ she thought to herself. She licked her suddenly dry lips. God, she wanted to kiss him. She wanted to feel his hands on her skin and cry out his name as he made love to her. Her blood rushed hot at the thought of going to bed with the stranger named John.

John cupped Joss' cheek. She fit in the palm of his hand so perfectly - as though she had been made for him. He needed to kiss before he died from want. His lips hovered over hers. He saw that her eyes were closed in anticipation. So he kissed her. Her lips were so soft against his that he fought against taking more. He heard her moan softly as he pulled her closer.

"Hey, Joss," a woman's voice called out to break the magical moment. Joss looked up to see her best girlfriend hurrying over. "Where did you run to?"

"I…" Joss looked down, but John was gone. Confused, she looked around, but he was nowhere to be seen. _Had_ he been there, or had she dreamt him? Plastering a smile on her face, she turned to her friend.

"Hey, Elise."

"Where have you been? Tonya's getting ready to throw the bouquet. Oh, look at you!" Elise hurriedly tried to put Joss' hair back in place. "What have you been doing?" She sniffed the air appreciatively. "Good God, Joss, how many did you throw back?"

Joss tried not to look insulted. "Just a couple."

"A couple of bottles," Elise corrected. "You ought to be lucky some strange guy didn't try to take advantage of you."

Joss looked around, peering into the crowd. "Did you see anyone here? With me?"

"No. Why?"

A bit of sadness filled Joss' heart. "No reason." She shook her head.

Elise grabbed Joss by the hand. "Come on, girl. We are going to be late."

So, the blue-eyed stranger had been a drunken fantasy, Joss theorized as she allowed herself to be dragged to the stage on the far end of the ballroom. And it was probably just as well, because what were the odds of ever meeting him again?  
******

_To be continued..._


End file.
